


Scenes From a Blight

by RandomnonsenseDA (B1nary_S0lo)



Series: Rora Surana [14]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Backstory, Bathing/Washing, Birthday, Birthday Presents, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Dancing, Drabble, F/M, Female Friendship, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hair Brushing, Height Differences, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Korcari Wilds, Literal Sleeping Together, Morning Cuddles, Morning Kisses, Naked Cuddling, One Shot Collection, Pre-Relationship, Prompt Fill, Sharing a Room, Size Difference, Sleepy Kisses, Tumblr Prompt, Zevran being Zevran
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-06-11 05:37:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 4,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15308628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B1nary_S0lo/pseuds/RandomnonsenseDA
Summary: Short, prompted pieces and drabbles about my warden, her friends, and loved ones. Stories are arranged in in-universe chronological order (not in the order they were written) and take place at various points in the timeline of Rora's series.





	1. "Magic Scenarios- Improvement"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during Rora's first year at the Circle, after "Be Brave."

“All right, Surana,” the young enchanter said. “Let’s see how you’re getting on.”

Rora, sitting in a semicircle on the floor with the other apprentices, got to her feet. She was in class, the class for beginning apprentices she’d joined upon arrival at the Circle. Her peers ranged in age from about four to about twelve. Rora was six-and-a-half.

She walked to the front of the room, just as several of her other classmates had done, and stood beside the enchanter who taught them. The woman put a kind hand on Rora’s shoulder.

“Whenever you’re ready,” she said.

Rora nodded. She turned toward the target that had been set up against the far wall. Scorch marks, singe marks, and wet marks from melted ice were scattered at various points around the target and on the wall behind it. Very few were on the target itself.

Rora took a deep breath—in, out—just as she’d been taught. Already, she felt the strange prickle against her skin, the feeling of fire in the air all around her, waiting to be commanded. She breathed again, focused, tried to reach for just a tiny bit of that fire. The point of the test wasn’t to do the most powerful spell. The point was control, to see if you could hit the target.

She breathed out. She’d been practicing a lot, both in and out of class. In the past her spells had been too powerful, out of control, but today it all came together. So easy. So simple to make the room fall away, to see the fire and reach for it, to focus on the target, and let go.

A whoosh of air and heat brought her back to reality. She heard impressed oohs from her classmate, and she blinked. In the very center of the target was a single scorch mark.

“Very good, Surana!” the enchanter said. “You’re a natural.”

Rora stood up to her full height. She beamed, felt like she was glowing all over.

Back in the Alienage, she hadn’t been good at very much. Adults rarely praised her. But here… here it was different.

A _natural_.

She’d never been a natural at anything.


	2. "Is your character bothered by the sight of blood?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally appeared on AO3 as a standalone story, "Sight of Blood." Takes place after "First Steps" and before "A Ritual."

Rora’s first battle in the Korcari Wilds, years of constant study and training took over. When the Darkspawn charged toward them she neither panicked nor flinched, but went to her quiet place, the place of focus and clarity her instructors had taught her to find. Here, the battle slowed down, the sounds of hacking, slashing and screaming faded, and she saw without really seeing.

But when the battle ended and she came back to herself, it all washed over her. The wrecked bodies of the Darkspawn, the blood on the ground and on her companions’ faces. The world spun. Images came back to her—Jowan with his arm outstretched, a spray of red, Templars on the ground—

Then a large, solid hand on her shoulder. A steadying hand. She looked up at Alistair, surprised.

“Good job, everyone,” he said, addressing her, Daveth, and Jory. “You all did really well for your first time in the field.”

He smiled down at her, kind, and let go of her shoulder. He walked back to the head of the group. Rora watched him go, still feeling the phantom warmth of his hand on her shoulder.


	3. "First Holiday"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place shortly after "In the Meadow."

“Um…” Rora said. “Alistair…”

Alistair, sitting by the fire after dinner, looked up. Rora stood behind him, nervous smile on her face and hands behind her back.

“Happy Birthday,” she said. “I got you this.”

Before he could even respond, she handed him a wooden box about the size of a large book.

“I… what?” He looked down at the box, up at her again. “How did you know it was my…?”

“You mentioned when it was a few months ago. I wrote it down.”

She took a seat beside him, sitting close on the log so that her knee just touched his. She leaned a little closer, and he could see even in the light of the fire that her face was bright red.

“Are you going to open it?”

He nodded and made to open the box, still stunned that she’d thought to get him anything. Though they’d been friends for nearly half a year now, their romance was still new. And when was the last time someone had even acknowledged his birthday?

The box was lined with dark velvet, and nestled inside was a ball of black glass, just small enough to fit in his hand. He took it out and studied it. Glittering inside were hundreds of tiny, silver lights.

“It’s supposed to be the night sky,” Rora said, in a rush. “I wasn’t sure what to get you. It’s probably not very—”

“It’s amazing,” Alistair said. He looked up, grinning widely. “Thank you.”

She seemed to relax, brighten up.

“You really like it?”

“Of course I do. It’s perfect.”

Her face broke out in to a grin. Then, she leaned a little closer and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. When she pulled away, she was blushing once more.

“Happy Birthday,” she said again.

He put his arm around her. “Thanks for remembering.”


	4. "Accidentally falling asleep together"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place roughly around the same time as "All Ears."

“Wynne.  _Wynne!_ ” Leliana hissed. She grabbed the old woman’s arm and pointed. “Look at them!”

“Oh my goodness,” Wynne said, voice hushed. “That is  _adorable_.”

Alistair and Rora sat slumped in front of the cold campfire in the dawn light, and they were fast asleep. A blanket was draped across both their shoulders, but not enough to obscure the fact that his arm was around her shoulders, keeping her upright, or that her cheek was resting on his bicep. They were completely out, breathing softly and unaware of their small audience.

“The poor dears,” Leliana said. Her tone suggested someone watching baby animals, or perhaps in her case, baby nugs. “They must be exhausted.”

Wynne clicked her tongue in sympathy.

“Greetings, my dear ladies.” Zevran had exited his tent, and stopped beside the two women. “What are we looking at?”

Wynne put her finger to her lips in a shushing gesture, and pointed. Zevran raised his eyebrows.

“Ah, I see.” He gave a dramatic sigh. “Young love before our very eyes. A stimulating start to the day.”

As they watched in fascination, Rora stirred only enough to nuzzle closer to Alistair. Her hands gripped his shirtsleeve, and his arm drew her closer in sleep. A faint  _aww_  of appreciation went up from their audience.

“Why are you all standing here?” Sten stopped at the back of the group. Leliana nudged him, pointed.

“Cute, right?”

Sten crossed his arms and made a “hmph” noise, but his eyes remained fixed on the sleeping couple. Leliana grinned at him. He either didn’t see, or ignored her.

“Why on  _earth_  is everyone standing—?” Morrigan pulled to a stop at the edge of camp, took in the situation, and turned to the rest of the group with an expression of horror. “You  _cannot_  be serious.”

“Morrigan.” Leliana held a finger to her lips. “Shhh.”

“Am I correct in assuming that instead of preparing breakfast, or breaking camp, or conducting any of the activities of a sane person, you have all been standing here watching—” she pointed, “ _This?_ ”

“My dear Morrigan,” said Zevran, “you really must keep your voice down. We would not want to—”

But it was, apparently, too late. Rora began to stir, which made Alistair stir as well. Leliana, Wynne, Sten, and Zevran exchanged panicked looks. Morrigan rolled her eyes.

By the time Alistair and Rora were fully awake, sore and stiff and blinking in the dawn light, they were alone, save for Morrigan, who was bent over the fire using a stick as a poker. The two of them quickly moved apart. Alistair brushed his mussed hair out of his eyes, and Rora pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. Morrigan didn’t look up.

“Where is everyone?” Rora said, trying to regain her composure.

Morrigan shrugged her shoulders. “Who can say? Sleeping in, most likely.”

Rora and Alistair exchanged looks of relief. Morrigan finding them inadvertently sleeping by the fire was a little embarrassing, true, but at least she was the only one who’d seen.

“And a good thing, too,” Alistair said later, when he and Rora were alone. “Who knows how they’d react if they realized we’re together?”

“True,” Rora said, with a serious nod. “Better to keep that from them until they’re ready to handle it.”


	5. "Brushing each other's hair"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place roughly around the same time as "All Ears"

“One of these days, Rora,” Leliana said, “you must tell me how you keep your hair so soft.” She ran the brush through Rora’s sleek brown bob from top to bottom once again, and clicked her tongue. “Mine is like a grease helm after this many days on the road.”

“That’s not true,” Rora said over her own shoulder, though she tried not to smile at the compliment. “You always look very fashionable and put together.”

Leliana laughed. “You’re a dear to say so.”

They fell silent, and Rora relaxed back into the pleasant feeling of having her hair brushed,  listening to the crackling of the campfire beside them.

She’d felt a little silly about the whole exercise at first. It wasn’t as though her hair was long enough that she needed help with it, and what if one of their companions saw them sitting by the fire and teased her? But Leliana insisted that wasn’t the point. This was what friends did. Rora, who hadn’t really had female friends back at the Circle, had to take her word for it.

Now, Rora admitted to herself that this was nice. Almost meditative. When she closed her eyes, the reality of the party’s outdoor campsite started to fall away. She could almost smell a different hearth, one she hadn’t thought of in years, and hear the faint sound of singing as different hands gently brushed and parted her hair.

“Would you ever consider a different style?” Leliana said then, breaking Rora out of her reminiscences. “I could see you with a few more braids. Ooh, or one of those shaved underneath styles, perhaps. That would look very fetching on you.”

“Maybe,” Rora said. “I’d have to think about it.”

Rora looked out, past the orange glow of the fire and on to the dark trees. Cricket calls tingled in her ears, and pine stung her nose. She shifted, making Leliana pause.

“Want to switch?” she said.

With a smile, Leliana nodded. She handed Rora the brush and turned around, shaking her equally short red hair out over her shoulders. Rora crouched on her knees and got to work, brushing through Leliana’s slightly thicker hair.

“If  _you_  could do something different with  _your_ hair,” Rora said. “What would  _you_  do?”

Leliana seemed to think the question over for a moment. “I would… cut it very short, and dye it green.”

“ _Really?_ ” Rora said, voice arcing up in pitch. “Why green?”

“Why not? Green is a nice color.”

“I think you’d look better with blue hair. Or pink.”

Even from behind, Rora could somehow tell that her friend was making a face. “Pink’s not my color. But I agree with you about blue.” She made a satisfied noise. “Ah! In that case, I would grow it very long, so it would look like a stream of water coming off my head.”

Rora laughed and shook her head. “You are  _very_  silly, Leliana.”

“Well, I feel like I  _can_  be silly around you,” Leliana said. “It’s lovely. I’m very glad we’ve become friends, Rora.”

Rora felt something like a punch of joy to the stomach. She looked back down at Leliana’s coppery hair to hide her smile.

“I’m very glad we’re friends, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Leliana and Rora technically have the same hairstyle, which I've always found pretty funny given that Leliana actually compliments your hair in game.


	6. "First Dance"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after "All Ears," but a bit before Alistair and Rora have slept together.

Despite its remoteness, the inn the party stopped at that night proved a surprisingly lively place. The companions were in the midst of dinner when musicians emerged as if from nowhere and began to play a lively jig. Patrons clapped their hands in time to the music, and others got up to dance. Zevran was enthralled.

“Some entertainment at last!” he said. “I thought you Fereldans did not know the meaning of the word. We should join in. Rora, if I may?”

Rora, still in the process of drinking her soup, looked up in surprise at Zevran’s offered hand. She shook her head.

“No, thank you,” she said. “I can’t dance.”

“Anyone can dance,” said Zevran. Rora shrugged apologetically. “Really? No? Alistair, then!” He turned to the tall man, who was seated next to Rora. “Dance with me, my good man.”

Alistair, who had been chewing a bite of bread, swallowed so hard Rora feared he would choke. He, too, shook his head.

“No, no, absolutely not,” he said. “I am  _not_  dancing, much less with you.”

Zevran clicked his tongue, and turned to the others, “Anyone else? No?” He sighed when he was met with rejections all around. “Ah, you wound me. But, no matter. I’m sure  _someone_  will wish to dance with one as handsome as I.”

With that, he swept off to look for a partner elsewhere in the inn. The others went back to their food and conversations, but Rora caught Alistair’s eye.

“You really don’t want to dance?” she said. “With anyone?”

Alistair reddened. He put his bread down before meeting her eyes again.

“I’ve never done it before,” he said sheepishly. “No dancing in the Grey Wardens, much less in Templar training. If I tried I’d embarrass myself.”

Instead of answering, Rora let her eyes wander to the dancers. Couples were spinning, whirling and stepping across the floor in time to the music. Zevran, too, danced with a partner—a dark eyed human man who’d been sitting in a corner by himself. Zevran dramatically spun and then dipped his taller partner as the music picked up, and he and the man laughed.

Rora turned back to Alistair.

“Looks fun,” she said.

“Hmm…”

The song came to an end. They watched as Zevran bowed to his partner, then walked over to a human woman, bowing to her as well and offering his hand. She giggled and took it. The band began to play again, a slower, quieter song. A steady drum beat.

Making a decision, Rora pushed back her chair and stood up. She held out her hand to Alistair.

“Come on,” she said. “I can’t dance either, so you don’t need to be embarrassed.”

Alistair stared at her hand, blinked. Then, he grinned. He stood up and took her small hand in his.

“Fine,” he said. He moved closer, close enough that his body pressed against hers. His voice was a rumble just above her head. “Just don’t get mad if I step on your toes.”

She giggled, pressing her face into his chest. Then, she stepped back and they walked hand in hand onto the inn floor.

It wasn’t much of a dance. As much more skilled couples wove and spun around them, she and Alistair simply swayed in place, his hand on the small of her back. She didn’t care, though. All she was aware of was the warmth of his body against hers and the gentle way he held her. Looking up into his eyes, the music, the other couples, faded away. All that remained was the two of them.

When the song ended—it took them a moment to realize it had—they came apart, sheepish and shy once more.

“That was nice,” Alistair said, rubbing his head.

“Yes,” said Rora. She looked up and smiled. “I think we need more practice, though.”

Alistair reached for her hand again, drawing her closer, and she giggled as his lips brushed the top of her head.

“Good idea.”


	7. "First bath/shower"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place a short time after Alistair and Rora have slept together (a story I haven't written yet.)

Rora hadn’t expected sharing a room with Alistair to be this… awkward. It wasn’t the odd look they’d gotten from the innkeeper when they’d asked for a room to themselves, or the titters from their companions, that bothered her. It was everything else. The question of where to put their luggage (“Do you always put your bags right in the middle of the floor like that?” “Er… yes.”), the constant bumping into one another as they arranged their things (“Sorry, didn’t see you.” “No, it was my fault.”), and, most especially, changing and getting ready for bed.

“Should I look away?” Alistair said when Rora produced her nightdress. She paused.

“I suppose you don’t… have to,” she said.

Nonetheless, he blushed and turned his back when she began removing her clothes.

“I’m… going to take a bath,” she said once she was changed. He nodded from his seat on the bed, and she scurried into the bathroom.

Shutting the door behind her, she heaved a sigh. This wasn’t good. She had so been looking forward to sharing a room with Alistair, to having their own space, their own bed. But now she missed the tent they had begun sharing. In that small, intimate space, everything came so easily, like a secret shared between them. But here in the stark openness of the inn things seemed remote and formal, their discomfort brought to the forefront. There had to be some way to relieve the tension, to cut through their sudden awkwardness.

Still brooding, Rora went to the bath and turned the tap. She shrugged off her nightgown, bent to feel the water, warmed it slightly with her magic to bring it up to the temperature she liked. When the bath was full she moved to place her toe in the water, stopped. She looked back at the door. Her heart gave a thump.

“Alistair?” she called.

She heard the bed creak. “Yes?”

“Could you, um, come in here?”

The floorboards creaked this time, and then the door opened. There was silence.

“Oh,” he said. 

Rora looked back, meeting Alistair’s eyes as he took her in. She realized that he’d never gotten this good a look at her body, never seen her outside the darkened crampedness of the tent. His awed gaze made heat blossom across her skin, head to toe, and she swallowed.

“I thought… maybe…” She breathed in. “Do you want to join me?”

His Adam’s apple moved, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he nodded.

Rora climbed into the tub, the heat a pleasant shock to her skin, and turned in the water. Now it was her turn to watch him. He removed his clothes quickly, so quick he almost tripped on his trousers, and it was her turn to blush, to study the details of this body she knew from touch, from taste, but not from sight. She bit her lip and waited for him.

Once he was in the tub, however, it was complicated, a negotiation of space. He was so much larger, his limbs sprawling to fill the tub, that there was barely room for her. They took some time shifting, rearranging themselves in the water until they settled on a solution. He would lie with his back against the tub, long legs bent, and she would lean back against him.

Once they were settled, he looped his arm under her breasts and held her close. Rora let the back of her head rest against his shoulder, her eyes closed and her own arms resting over his. His lips were close to her ear, close enough that his breath tickled.

“Well,” he said, voice rumbling against her. “This is nice.”

She made a noise of agreement, cuddling closer.

“No idea how we’re going to get clean, though,” he said.

She laughed, eyes still closed. She reached up to dance fingers along his jaw, and he took her cue, leaning down to press his lips to hers. For the next while, getting clean was the furthest thing from their minds.


	8. "Sleepy morning kisses that accidentally turn intense"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place awhile before "After the Alienage."

Rora usually woke before Alistair did, and she loved to prop herself up on one arm and study his sleeping face in the morning light, little details like the small lines near his eyes, the funny way his brows would furrow sometimes, or how his mouth would curl into a frown or a little half smile in sleep.

Or sometimes not in sleep. Studying him that particular morning, she ran a lazy finger down his chest, and his lips twitched slightly. She grinned in response, spreading her hand across his chest.

“Are you pretending to be asleep again?” she said.

His smile widened. He didn’t open his eyes, but he rested his hand over hers.

“Were you watching me again?” He yawned widely, then continued. “That’s very creepy, you know…”

She leaned down, grinning, and lightly pressed her lips to his. He gave a sleepy hum as he returned the kiss. He moved one hand slowly down her bare back, making a pleasant shiver run down her spine.

Rora paused for breath, then leaned in again, as if magnetically drawn. He tightened his arm around her, lips moving more insistently against hers. She responded in kind, already moaning softly.

As the kiss deepened, she felt that increasingly familiar, pleasant heat flood her body, move from her flushed cheeks and down between her legs. With a whine, she pressed herself closer to him, core flush against his leg. His lips stuttered against hers.

He pulled away briefly to flip her onto her back, drawing a whimper of excitement from her. It still surprised her how much she enjoyed his occasional moments of dominance, the feel of his weight on top of her. His lips met hers again, and she parted her legs to let him in closer, gasped in surprise when she felt his hardness against her.

 At her gasp, he broke the kiss to look down at her, face bright red and apologetic.

“Er, sorry,” he said. “We can stop if you—”  

Instead of answering, she shook her head, and gently pulled him back down to meet her. He settled back into the kiss with a sigh.

“I guess we’ll be…” he paused to kiss her again, “…late for breakfast this morning…”

She grinned against his mouth, shifted her hips, and if his groan was any indication, the message was clear. Less talking, more kissing.


	9. "Sleepy morning kisses before they've even opened their eyes"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place before "After the Alienage."

Rora woke that morning sticky and much too warm. She’d somehow managed to burrow herself so deeply into the bedroll that it covered the top of her head, and furthermore, she was completely pinned between Alistair and Leo, her Mabari. Not to mention the face full of Alistair’s chest hair.

With a wrinkle of her nose, she and wiggled out of Alistair’s grasp, kicking herself to the top of the bedroll as though she was swimming. Leo snorted in sleep, while Alistair groaned and stirred beside her.

Rora’s head broke the top of the bedroll (sweet fresh air, sweet relief) and, with a sigh, she resettled herself beside Alistair and wrapped her arms around his neck. His large arms tightened around her again.

“…I think you kicked me…” he said sleepily.

She made a noise of sympathy.

“…Sorry,” she muttered against his neck.

He shook his head and then kissed the top of her hair once, twice. She curled closer, tilting her head up to find his lips. They kissed messily, half asleep. Alistair missed her lips for her nose a couple of times. She giggled.

“Your breath smells…”

He made a sleepy, noncommittal noise. “Your feet’re cold,” he said, kissing her cheek.

“No-ope…” She kissed his nose in return.

Beside them, Leo sneezed in his sleep and Rora and Alistair dissolved into laughter, sleepy laughs that were more movement than sound.

“Maybe it’s time to get up…” Alistair said.

Rora groaned and pressed her face into his collarbone, nuzzling.

“Inna minute…”


	10. "Height difference kisses"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place before "After the Alienage"

“Come on, Alistair, bend down,” Rora said.

Rora stood in front of him, hands on his torso for balance as she stood on the very tips of her toes, trying to reach his lips. He stood completely straight, a mischievous grin on his face. Rora made a noise of mock frustration and jumped. Even this didn’t get her any higher than perhaps his neck. She pouted up at him.

“This is just mean,” she said.

“I know you can do it,” he said, barely hiding his laughter. “I believe in you.”

They were off to side in their own quiet corner of camp. All evening they’d been joking and giggling, increasingly louder, while their companions likely pretended not to hear. Normally they wouldn’t have been so shamelessly silly in public, but the night was very dark and it was easy to pretend they were alone.

Rora gave Alistair another scowl, then scanned the area around them. Her eyes, better in the dark than his, lit on something. She ran a short distance away, only to return a moment later bearing a large, flat stone. Alistair watched in clear amusement as she placed it in front of him. She placed her hands on her hips with a very satisfied smirk.

“I may be small,” she said. “But I am wise.”

She stepped atop the rock, only to discover it lent her an additional inch at best. She looked from the rock, then back to him, and stuck out her lower lip.

With a laugh, Alistair reached for her waist to bring her closer.

“You’ve suffered enough, my lady,” he said, leaning down to capture her lips. He could feel her grin as she kissed him. When they came apart, he decided not to tease her about the fact that even with the rock and his bending down, she still had to stand on her tiptoes.


	11. Shapes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a prompt, but a drabble. Takes place before "After the Alienage"

Together in Rora’s tent, she and Alistair liked to compare the shapes of their bodies. They’d press palms to palms, laugh at the way her fingers barely reached his, giggle at the contrast between his muscled arms and her thin ones.

“You’re so small,” he’d say, hand opening to measure her waist. “How are you even alive?”

Giggling, she’d part crawl, part fall into his lap. She loved the way his arms enveloped her, the way she fit so snugly against him. His body was warm and solid as he held her. His grip, though strong, was supremely gentle. When she pressed her cheek to his chest, she could hear his heart beat.


End file.
